Thanks for coming back to read more. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. It's largely inspired by a band named Dir En Grey, and their song, Tousei. I'd certainly recommend giving it a listen as you read this, especially if you like Japanese music.

Now then, let's begin!


Sole Survivor

The wind blew but nobody answered. There was stillness here; stillness eternal without a saviour. After all was said and done, there was nothing but death in this cold and unforgiving place. The others were all gone. One at a time their flames flickered out and joined the afterlife. Was there a land beyond this one for those who lived no longer? It was a human instinct to fear death, after all.

The midnight moonlight washed over the scenery of a battered churchyard. Crows circled, swooping in to pick at at those that moved no longer. They eat their fill, bringing the tragically beautiful the circle of life to its natural end. Those who no longer existed were nought but flesh, after all, a macabre darkness, but one of simple truth.

Scythe's twisted aria of survival, his chaotic game of life and death, it all came to an abrupt and climactic end. He too, lay sprawled upon the cold grounds of the old churchyard, surrounded by both his beautiful puppets and countless men of the Yakuza. Almost all of the Goto henchmen were dead, save a wounded Shiga. The two Phantoms, Zwei and Drei had claimed so many lives in the name of their survival.


Reiji sighed in frightfully calm recollection of the night's events. Beside him in the hotwired car was Miss Cal Devens. She lay back in the leather seats of their stolen vehicle, spent and exhausted from their long battle. They'd made it. Somehow, they'd survived the odds and defied not just Scythe, not just the Goto Family, but Inferno, too.

She breathed heavily, bringing her tired eyes of green to gaze toward the clouded moon, "You better punch it Reiji. It won't be long until the cops get here…."

"Right," Zwei came back abruptly, firing up the engine of the crimson convertible with the bluish spark of wires.

Deep low growls roared from the engine. The Phantom applied pressure to the gas in all of his haste, sending their vehicle screeching off into the darkest distance of the night. Behind them, they left a graveyard, both figuratively and literally.

On the open road, wind blowing through her long, blond hair, Cal gave a gentle smile, watching with faint glee as the clouds parted, revealing a beautiful, glittering night sky.

"We did it... We made it outta there... but where do we go next?"

Reiji, fixated upon the road, batted an eye in her direction, just long enough to take note of her question.

"Mexico," he spoke softly, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "It's the one place Inferno will struggle to find us... There's a small town now too far south of the boarder. Santa Medella... We'll go there."

A good idea, sure, but one that didn't exactly solve the biggest problem. She feared to ask the lone question bouncing around her mind, but knew that in the end there was no choice.

"What about McGuire? As long as we're alive he'll keep sending people our way..."

Smiling, cool and contented, the church long since lost to the distance, Mister Azuma eased off the peddle, pulling to a howling stop at the roadside. The expression upon his face, so strong and determined, was enough to make Cal, Inferno's third disgraced Phantom, give a soft gasp of surprise.

"Don't worry about that for now... When the time's right... he'll get what's coming to him... trust me."

Unclasping his seatbelt, leaning across, suave and flawless as always, he placed an arm around Cal's waist, the sensation being enough to make her fragile heart thunder.

"The most important thing right now is getting to Mexico, together..."

Those words were like music to her ears. Surrendering to her feelings, uncaring of her fears, Cal hugged him back, a smile of truest compassion curving her beautiful pinkish lips.

"I like the sound of that..."


Broken Phantom masks; six girls; the empty casings of bullets, they were all signals of the end of a legacy. The Zahlenschwestern; the left hand of Master Scythe, none of them had the heart nor the strength to stand against the demons, Zwei and Drei. They laid cold on the harshness of the ground, their fragile feminine forms as sponges for bullets and blades.

Only two remained in the mortal world at this point; the seventh and the ninth; Sieben and Neun.

The elder of the two, dark hair bloodied and brown eyes quivering, lay stabbed upon the alter of the Lord. Ruby liquid seeped forth from her chest as an icy numbness slowly overtook her failing body. She let out a tiny whimper, fingers outstretched, her blurry chestnut eyes fixated with all she had upon the statue of Christ. His Lordship stared back at her it seemed, soft and welcoming even in the final moments. How ironic that she, an assassin would meet her end within the house of God.

"Master Scythe," the final words the seventh Phantom uttered.

In a single, overwhelming moment, her body, awash with a pain, became too heavy to move.

The heart within her tired chest thumped in one vibrantly dark final requiem, accompanied by a single fragile breath.


Neun, she was the final candle left flickering in the wind. Yet, at the same time, her light was so very dim. Two bullets remained punched in her petite chest, her lungs struggling to function under the purest of discomfort. Blood of the darkest red oozed from her mouth, staining her chin as she fought to keep her eyes open.

Struggling to stand upright, a burning fire flooding her torso, she wobbled through the courtyard, slumping against the door of a car as her legs finally gave out, eyes fixated upon her reflection, taking in the sight of her icy sapphire eyes and pale sky blue hair.

She had to think about something, anything to keep her mind ticking over, to stop her body, already so battered and broken, from giving in.

She knew not her real name. She remembered not who she was before the day her eyes opened before Master Scythe.

The perfect killer she may have been, but there was no denying the screaming, god-awful spectre, alive and well within the depths of her soul.

Fear.

Fear of dying, fear of vanishing once and for all, an uncontrollable terror held toward the idea of fading from this world in such a way.

So, with all her might she kept on fighting. Slowly but surely she crawled, leaving a warm, stinging trail of red behind her, toward one of the bullet riddled vehicles of the Yakuza men. With all her heart, the Ninth number clutched with jittering fingertips around the car door, breathing with every last shred of strength.

"Someone... anyone... I'm right here..."

Her voice was weak, cracked, almost broken, and her breathing even weaker.

Distortions, haunting and ghostly overtook everything, stealing away Nuen's sound and sight in a loud snap. It hurt so much to even think. Her lungs, they weren't taking in the air any longer.

"I don't," she wheezed, faint and tiny in a sea of darkness, "I don't want to... disappear..."

Voices, small and glassy, tore through the eerie silence all around her. Footsteps thumped, quiet at first but quickly increasing in pace.

"This one is still alive…. We'll take her with us. She will still serve a purpose to our plans," A man spoke with a refined softness, the sensation of two fingers pressing against the girl's neck. A pulse. He was checking for a pulse.

"Yes, Mister McGuire."

Two voices - a man and a woman, both very different and distinct. They were the last things Nuen heard.

Finally, after struggling against the tide, she felt her body stiffen, washed away by raging waters.


Alas, Neun was in the hands of fate for a second time. In a parked white medical vehicle on the roadside, men in surgical attire prodded at her fragile form with metal. The girl's body was meant to be a masterpiece in the eyes of her former master, Scythe. However, in the hands of McGuire she would be given no such grandiose treatment.

White-gowned surgeons picked the bullets from her body with tweezers as she lay under the foggy haze of anaesthetic. With the pieces of lead that threatened her life gone, the head of the medical staff sealed the girl shut with the most gruesome of surgical stitches, something which was much to the effect of precise and careful timing. There was nothing beautiful about this operation.

"You have done well... Deliver the girl to my office."

The leader of Inferno, McGuire, he wanted a weapon that was alive and functional, not a work of art that took more time to repair. The life of Neun had been spared, unlike those of her sisters before her. It came at the cost of her flawless perfection.

In truth, this was something he wanted. It would serve as a reminder of the stillness of death reaching out for her. That way, she'd remain loyal.

"Nuen... the last of Scythe's weapons... She'll be somewhat useful to me."


Blue eyes opened to a blur. Neun breathed hard, her vision refusing to focus. A pain in the back of her skull jarred the senses even further.

"Ouch, my head," she cried softly, holding her temple with a weak left hand. Everything in the room spun from side to side.

Slowly but surely things began to stabilize one step at a time. First, her eyesight returned to some sense of normality, her ears following next as she took note of a loudly ticking clock. Those two factors together served to make the bulk of her dizziness go away.

One question prevailed above all others. "Where am I?"

The young girl did not recognize the closest surroundings. She lay upon a leather couch in a small Japanese style penthouse. Traditional scrolls hung from the walls along with festive decorations - all of which came together with dim yet fancy lighting. Laminate floors remained beneath the feet of Neun, to which she scoffed slightly.

Footsteps, light at first, pattered across the room. The eyes of the assassin moved swiftly to follow the source, and upon doing so they locked upon a potential target. A tall man with a stern and simple expression stood before her. His hair appeared to be light grey in shade and exceedingly feminine in both the length and style. This gentleman was neither bulky, nor entirely thin, a perfect balance. His pale complexion stood in contrast to his powerful green eyes, and finally, he wore an elegant yet sharp two piece suit with a long coat over the top.

"My name is McGuire," he spoke quietly, arms dropped at the sides, "I have something for you…."

With a snap of the gentleman's fingers, two men clad in suits entered the room. They moved both quickly and efficiently to stand at the side of McGuire. They remained in place, unflinching like gargoyles. Neun eyed them both. One of the men held in his hand a pistol, while the other held between his forefinger and thumb what resembled a pair of polaroid photographs.

With another authorative snap of McGuire's fingers, each of these items were placed in Nuen's lap with a respectful bow.

"Please look at both of these pictures," McGuire instructed, his tone of authority all too clear. "They should provide all the information you need."

The young lady nodded in confusion. Her slender fingers flipped over both of the face down, eyes of blue narrowing as to get a good look at them. It was then and there, that her face twisted with a rare showing of emotion. A light gasp escaped her lips.

Master Scythe! In this image he was cold and dead; a bullet lodged between the eyes, a disturbingly content smile curving his lips as he lay there adorned in the prized the Phantom of the Opera mask he so often wore.

"Your master is dead, Neun," McGuire spoke abruptly, "Now, please take a look at the other picture."

A pang of fear coursed through the veins of the young Phantom. Her fingers inched ever so slowly toward the second picture. They hovered over it for a brief moment, and after a nod of confirmation to herself the blue-haired girl turned it over.

Headaches pulsed through the brain, dull and unforgiving. The very sight of the photograph causing her skull to ache.

A young man in a sharp suit. He appeared to be getting into a car, and beside him was a young lady in a motorcycle outfit.

An icy chill to coursed through Nuen's veins, her pale, slender fingers squeezing around and crushing the image.

"Zwei and Drei. They are responsible for the murder of your master, Neun."

McGure paused, watching closely as the all too unforgiving truth sunk in. "Our sources say they have left the country and how hide somewhere in Mexico."

"The man, Zwei…." Neun uttered under her breath. A painful flashback tore through her mind at the mention of his name. It was vague. The emotionless expression of his face along with the gun he pointed at her - these two memories played over and over, quickening until finally, in a bright flash, the female killer flinched

"He was... the one who tried to kill me..."

As if by instinct, flames burned within the usually cool aura of the female assassin. Without even thinking, Scythe's last surviving masterpiece gripped the gun in her lap tightly. Her gaze bore an intensity like no other. The image of Zwei kept flashing through her mind.

McGuire, seemed to be smiling at her reaction, "In exchange for your life, Neun, I will give you the Phantom, Zwei. When the time is right, his life will be yours."

Swinging his arms outward in a grand gesture, the handsome ruler of Inferno continued, an almost seductive temptation to his voice."Swear loyalty to me, Neun, and in return, the closure you seek... will be yours."

McGuire's offer was weighty, yet tempting in its own right. The eyes of Neun shone bright.

She'd have her chance to kill the man that almost ended her life in that old churchyard? More importantly, she'd be able to avenge the life of her dearly departed master.

There was no doubt in her mind, "Yes, Master McGuire…. My skills are yours to command."

McGuire nodded, taking a step back and reaching for a glass of wine from the table behind. "Very well, Neun. I hereby declare you, the final Phantom of Inferno…."

No matter what it took, no matter the cost, she'd bring an end to Zwei.

"I thank you, Master McGuire."

To be continued...


Another chapter has come to a close. What did you think? Is there anything you'd like to see in future? You're more than welcome to leave some feedback if you like. I'm always happy to hear from my readers.

As always, keep on supporting Phanton Requiem and Phantom of Inferno! I'll see you in the next part!